"I will take full responsibility," he said. "I will go before the Kha'Ri and admit what I do here. None of you will be blamed, but I am the Warleader of this fleet, and until that position is taken from me, you will all obey my orders.
"Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar said something once. Something I did not understand at the time. I am not sure I understand it now.
"'There will come one moment in all our lives when all that is hangs in the balance, where one decision will shape not just our destiny, but the destinies of all those around us. Be sure, when that times comes, the decision you make is for the right reasons.'
"I am sure, and as I am Warleader, that means you are all sure also."
And with that, there was no argument. The Narn fleet set course for Centauri Prime.
"He is my friend, my oldest friend now. So few of us left alive. Urza, gone. Malachi, gone. And now.... Marrago. Oh, what dreams we all had as young men. We would topple the pillars of creation, walk like giants through the galaxy and leave nothing but wit and smiles and a reputation all men would envy.
"And we were almost there. Urza, Refa, Marrago and I. Serving the Emperor, creating a better world, fighting for a noble aim. Great Maker, how did we all fall so far and so fast?
"I am the last. A million failed promises litter my footsteps, and in my future there is nothing but sorrow. What I am about to do now.... it will take generations to put right.
"But what choice is there?"
"There is always a choice, Londo." The Emperor of the great and glorious Centauri Republic turned to see Morden standing at the door. The guard he had sent to find him was nearby. Morden looked very serious. There were a few spots of blood on his suit. It was remarkable the things one noticed in a crisis. "Just be sure you make the right one."
"From what perspective, hmm? Oh, I know what choice I make now, Mr. Morden. I will not let either of us be deluded that I do this gladly."
"You do not have to. You are an intelligent man, Londo. You can see the way things are going. There is only one real option here - many choices yes, but only one real path. Such is ambition's debt. You choose a path, follow it all your life, and then find yourself where you are now."
"We do not have time for this. Bring your Vorlon ships here. Save this planet, and I will accede to whatever demands you make. An embassy on this planet, you as my 'advisor', secret police scouring through my people. Save Centauri Prime and I will agree to it all."
"Details can be fixed later, but yes, an embassy will be necessary, as well as some sort of official appointment for myself. We will also need free rein to track down all those involved in this bargain with the Shadows. Naturally, the Lord–General will be placed under arrest."
"The details can be finalised later," Londo said quickly. "But in the name of the Maker, save my world!"
Morden smiled, a slender smile of triumph. "Already taken care of. You see, I told you we knew which path you'd take. Have a look outside, and see."
Londo walked to the window. He could see the Shadow's creature, the abomination, high in the sky, tendrils of crimson mist seeping from it.
Then he saw a flash of light, and something rose through the fog, moving towards the abomination.
"That, my dear Londo, is what a Vorlon looks like. It is said that those tainted by the Shadows cannot see one in its natural form. You can see it perfectly, can't you?"
"I can," Londo said carefully. "But I wish to all the Gods I could not."
From the stuff of light, the Vorlon seraph formed a sword and swept towards the last of the byakheeshaggai.
Miraculously General Carn Mollari was still alive, although neither he nor any of his crew knew just how that could be possible. The Shadow ships moved swiftly and fired with deadly precision and power. They screamed in the dark between the stars.
And yet the Centauri were holding their own, even beginning to fight back. Carn had an inexplicable feeling that the Shadows just did not care any more.
And then jump points opened, and Narn ships came into view. Carn's hearts stopped in his chest, until he saw the Narns fire on the Shadows.
And then the Vorlons swept through, and the battle was over. Not one Shadow warship escaped.
Not one even tried.
For what he knew would be his last battle, the Lord–General of the great and glorious Centauri Republic employed all the precision, planning and discipline at his command. That this was on a smaller scale did not matter. That this was land instead of the more common space battles did not matter. That this was his last battle did not matter either.
The madmen had taken a fair proportion of the palace, including the throne room. The Emperor's private chambers were secured, as were some of the outlying annexes. It was from them that Marrago recruited such of his guards he knew to have sufficient will to remain sane, and then he began taking back the palace.
It was a long and slow process, but slowly, room by room, wing by wing, it was being won. There had been many victories. Minister Durano had retained his sanity, but had been injured by one of the Shadow Criers. For an instant Marrago had contemplated letting him die, but now there was little point, as his secret was out. Durano had been taken to a hospital wing.
He had also come across young Vir Cotto. Unknown to almost everyone, Marrago had been watching him in hopes of his being a worthy husband for Lyndisty. Cotto's bravery and quick thinking were proved when he managed to rescue a group of servants and courtiers and secure them in a hastily fortified guardroom.
There were numerous other such events in one of the messiest fights Marrago had been in since chasing down groups of Narn terrorists as a young man. If anyone knew the art of guerrilla warfare, it was the Narns.
And then he came to the throne room.
He had expected stiff opposition here. It was after all the natural centre of the palace, and an obvious rallying point. The leader of the Shadow Criers would inevitably want the throne.
Instead there was no one there alive, and only two bodies on the floor. One he thought he knew, but any recognition would have been of a lady before her face had been burned and mutilated, and her clothes reduced to rags.
And then he looked at the second body.
"Lyndisty!"
There was nothing to say, nothing else for him to say. He had seen countless dead bodies, and he knew how to tell a corpse from one merely injured. She was dead. The stab wounds could be nothing but fatal. That did not stop him trying to seal her wounds, to breathe life back into her lungs, to start her hearts beating again. When he finally realised there was nothing he could do, he knelt there, holding her in his arms, crying her name over and over again.
And in the back of his mind, the coldly rational part that continued thinking and reasoning throughout any ordeal, he realised that now there was truly nothing for him to live for, but yet nothing able to kill him.
The rational part of his mind realised that was the greatest tragedy of all.
Lord–General Marrago did not see the God fight the demon in the skies above the capital, but many others, including the Emperor, did.
They saw the God raise a sword crafted of pure light. They saw the demon cry out, calling hideous spider–ships from the heavens. These flew screaming over the city, countless monsters from myth and legend. The sun seemed so bright, and the Emperor had to shield his eyes as they passed overhead.
They saw the God strike down the demon with a blow that tore it apart. With a scream, the demon died and plummeted to the earth. They saw the God raise his sword and summon a burst of light that shattered the red mist, and as the mist fell there came other Gods. Ships also came from the heavens. There were Centauri and Narns and others, ships larger and more powerful, that hunted down the demons and cast them to the earth.